Pieces of Moments
by always krissy
Summary: New drabble added. [Ephram/Amy implied, Amy/Colin implied, gen Brown family. G.]
1. Default Chapter

Title: Pieces of Moments  
Author: Krissy  
Disclaimer: Everwood is owned by people at the WB.  
Author's Notes: Just three drabble pieces. Short little moments. :D  
Pairing(s): Ephram/Amy implied, Colin/Amy implied  
Rating: G  
Archive: Just ask!   
  
  
  
  
  
Sometimes I wish Amy and I could be just like anime. 

A few twist and turns, a few sweet moments, and the rest would all be humor. A few slaps and a pathetic "I'm sorry" and all would be forgotten until it started all over again. 

But our life can't work that way. Won't work that way. Will never be that way. 

She needs Him as much as I need her. 

I'd give her the world, but I can't give her Colin. 

  
--- 

  
He felt like dying. His feet ached and his face was blotchy with burning red, and his breath was coming out in short breaths. His rapidly beating heart wouldn't slow, but he didn't want it to. It kept reminding him he'd need to hurry, to race the heartbeats there. He'd never forgive himself if she was wandering there for hours, alone, hurt, scared. Bright would never forgive him, either. He urged himself forward with another burst of speed. 

"I'm half way there," he panted. "Don't worry Amy, I won't leave you alone." 

And Colin always kept his promises. 

  
--- 

  
He sat at the kitchen table, pathetically eyeing the food. 

"What IS that thing?" 

"It's dinner, Ephram, eat up!" 

His nose wrinkling further, he stood up with a screech of chair legs. 

"No, that's okay. I'd rather eat a live fish." 

"Eww," Delia wrinkled her own nose. "That's gross, Ephram!" 

"So is this." 


	2. Ephram and Amy

He plucked the petals off the rose, one by one. 

"She loves me," he recited, and the petal twirled towards the ground as he let it go. "She loves me not, she loves me," the same quotations repeatedly fell from his lips until he was left with one petal, and he dully responded with, "She loves me not." 

"She doesn't know," a second voice chimed in. 

Dark hair fell across his eyes, as he whirled around. In the process, he hit his knee against the rock he was leaning against, and muttered a curse beneath his breath, but froze at familiar laughter. Hazel eyes stared doubtfully across the gravel road. 

"Amy?" 

Amy Abbott offered him a smile and trudged her way across the road. "She doesn't know," she repeated, grinning. "Maybe... given time... and effort," she added teasingly, "you can woo her properly." 

Ephram bit his lip, "Are you for real?" 

"Yes, silly," Amy laughed. "As real as any other girl, Ephram Brown. Now," she smirked, "aren't you going to start this 'wooing?'" 

And Ephram needed no other encouragement and pressed his lips against her's. 


	3. Little Ephram

Ephram looked out the window, lips pressing into a thin line. All he could see was the dark sky and bright lights. Lights always meant it was after seven. "Mama," he hesitated. Julia Brown stuck her head around the corner of the kitchen doorway. 

"Yes, Ephram?" she smiled. She dusted her hands against the white apron plastered around her waist, and peered more closely at him. It was then that she noticed the quivering lip. "He'll be home soon," she promised softly. She walked into the room and kneeled next to the arm chair. 

"He's never home anymore," Ephram disagreed. He shoved his thumb into his mouth and sucked on it. It was an awful habit for a six year old, but sometimes Ephram felt like he was four again. At least it had been less stressful when all he had to worry about was stacking his blocks. 

Julia sighed, "That's true, yes," she clucked her tongue as she removed his thumb from his mouth, "Don't do that," she lightly scolded, "it'll mess up your teeth." 

Ephram rolled his eyes, but shoved his hands into the pockets of his red sweatshirt. "Mama," he frowned, "does daddy like the hurt people more than us?" 

It was moments like these when she wanted to do nothing but throttle her husband. But she knew how important his job was, so she tried to let it slide. But when it hurt their son... 

"No, sweetie," she assured him. He looked doubtful at those words and just shook her head. "Why don't you go find a book and I'll read to you." 

Momentarily distracted, Ephram nodded, and hopped off his chair, toddling down the hallway towards his room. 

--- 

"You were never home," Ephram said. 

Andy Brown looked up, startled, and nearly dropped the kitchen knife he held in his hand. 

Well. This was different. Ephram was talking to him. Using actual words. 

"You were never home," Ephram repeated. "Do you know how it felt to be just sitting there, waiting for someone you adored to return home?" 

Andy bit his lip, but didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. It all usually led to a fight, anyway. 

Ephram stood there. And waited. 

When he didn't get a response, he laughed bitterly, and turned to leave. 

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," he said, stopping just outside the doorway. "You never gave us the chance to." 


	4. the first step amyephram

first amy-centric fic-thing. opinions? :D 

"Your mother was pretty," Amy fingered the glass frame that sat atop of the piano. Ephram liked to move it there when he played. Ever since his grandparents had left Everwood, he'd been doing it more often. His father had volunteered to check around for teachers, but Ephram couldn't imagine anyone but his old teacher or his grandfather. And he knew it was impossible to study with either now. 

"Yeah," Ephram said. His fingers moved across the keys with a grace that left Amy in awe. Ephram always left her in awe these days. She liked to watch him play. Had liked to watch him play since that one day during ballet practice and had found Ephram, mysterious and rebel Ephram, playing the piano like he'd been born to play. 

And maybe he was, Amy marveled. It wouldn't have surprised her if that had been God's will. The savior and his beautiful music. Music that cheered up anyone. Even Bright, although it had pained him, admitted that it was 'bloody brilliant.' Too many Harry Potter books for Bright, Amy snorted to herself. 

"Amy. Earth to Amy! ...Bright just informed me he was entering a beauty pageant to win a date with Kayla." 

"What?" Amy blinked, startled. "Bright isn't even here." 

Ephram flashed a quick grin. "Yeah. I know. I just wanted to get your attention. You were zoning. Am I really that boring?" he gave her a weak, less experienced, puppy dog look. 

"You know," Amy acknowledged seriously, "you really have been getting cocky lately. Just because we're good again, you try and get away with murder." The last few words were followed by a low whine. 

Ephram gave a full, wide smile, "If I killed anyone, it would be your brother, and I'd gloat and eeeeveryone would know." 

Amy just stared, barely hearing his words. She'd never seen him fully smile before. It was blinding and beautiful and once again left her in awe. There was something honest about it. In reality, the smile really wasn't much, but it came from Ephram, and just for her. And that was enough to send her heart pattering three million miles per hour. 

"You're cute when you smile." 

Amy turned away, with a blush, when she realized she'd spoken out loud. Great. Just what she needed. 

"You're prettier when you smile." 

Amy's blush deepened at those words, and she ducked her head. 

She frowned, seconds later, when Ephram stopped playing. The moment would soon be broken and Amy knew the cozy uncomfortable silence would return, where they'd both dwell over their inner demons. And Amy wasn't ready for them yet. 

"Would you play the song you wrote me?" Her voice was laced with desperation but she didn't care. She just wanted that peace Ephram brought. 

Ephram seemed to understand the desperation and began to play, not saying a word. 

As long as Ephram continued to play, she knew all would be well. 


	5. drabbleabout delia

Delia deserved a mother. A woman of beauty, of sophistication, of endless talents, of love and smells of exotic perfumes, but with a natural air of spices, of cinnamon, of endless love and smiles, and girlish giggles, and expertise of makeup and clothes. 

She deserved someone who could bake her batches of cookies, without worrying if they were going to be charred rocks. That would last only a few hours, because they'd be so delicious, they'd be gone within a second. Someone who could bake a cake for the school fundraiser, and not have to stop off at the store to pick one up because it burned, or fell flat. 

She deserved someone who could recite fairy tales of princesses and dragons, and endless romance that never died, of happy ever after, and once upon a time. She deserved someone who could read stories with cute little animal voices, and actually sound like animals, but even if they didn't, the attempt was so cute, that it didn't matter. 

She deserved to have someone there for her to teach her everything a girl needs to know. Of makeup, and boys, and first kisses, and crushes, and what dresses were the best to buy for that time of year. She deserved someone who could surprise her with a pair of frilly socks, and actually accept them as something she'd giggle over and know it was time to grow up. She deserved to have someone buy her a bra, and actually know about it, and to know when she needed it, and what to buy, and where to buy, and what's best for little girls who shouldn't be as clueless as they are. 

She deserved a mother who was alive, and there, and part of her life. She deserved warm hugs, and kisses on the top of her head, and someone who would tuck her into bed with a smile that promised dreams of a happy future, of endless love, and dry eyes, devoid always of tears. 

She deserved so much. 


End file.
